estelio han, meleth vin
by in wide-eyed wonder
Summary: AragornArwen.
1. Default Chapter

Aragorn pressed the Evenstar into Arwen's pale hand, fighting with everything in himself not to cry. He must do this. He looked upon her, and her beauty amidst her grief, it seemed, strove to break his heart. He could not let her fade, loveliest of her people, for a mortal.  
  
Those who were not born to die.  
  
"It was a dream, Arwen. Nothing more." he spoke, voice little more then a whisper. Their tale, one not unlike another, written long ago. But he was not Beren, and she not Luthien, and the days of those tales had long been naught but stories of grief in the Elven houses. For with sorrow do they remember her, Tinuviel, fairest that ever lived among the children of Iluvatar.  
  
"This belongs to you." He lowered his gaze, and they both knew the true meaning of his words. Arwen placed it back in his palm, folding his fingers over it and holding them with her own pale hands, sorrowful and yet determined.  
  
"It was a gift." Tears formed in her deep eyes as she begged silently, "keep it."  
  
He took it and did the clasp, letting it fall around his neck. A single tear threaded its way down Arwen's cheek.  
  
You are not bound to loss and silence.  
  
He reached out and cupped her face, brushing the tear away with his thumb, though it was quickly joined by more.  
  
For you are not bound to the circles of this world  
  
Arwen bowed her head, burying her face in his hands, wetting them with her tears.  
  
All things must pass away  
  
Aragorn gently pulled her into his arms, holding her close for what he knew would be the last time. He remembered the pain in Elrond's eyes. Fear, also. Fear of losing his only daughter as he had lost his brother.  
  
All life is doomed to fade.  
  
Arwen pulled away and looked him in the eye, pain written across her face. She buried her face in his shoulder, staying there. Aragorn sighed heavily, so much weight hung upon his shoulders. His mind drifted off, wandering through memory and thought.  
  
Sorrowing you must go  
  
Something soft pressed to his lips drew him back to reality and Arwen pulled away, fingering the Evenstar that hung around his neck. "Melithan le, Aragorn," she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "An-ui." I will love you, forever.  
  
But not without hope.  
  
Aragorn gently kissed her forehead, "Farewell, Undomiel." He withdrew from her arms, bowing gracefully.  
  
Arwen reached over and toyed with the white gem on last time, running it over the chain absentmindedly. Her eyes met Aragorn's. "May the grace of the Valar protect you," she said, slowly pulling her hand back, letting it fall numbly to her side, "Namaer."  
  
She watched as he walked away, features set, hardened, sensing the struggle within. She brushed her tears away. She would see him again, she promised herself. There was always hope.


	2. anuir

Arwen stood rooted to the spot, watching as the one she loved departed. She struggled to restrain the tears which threatened to burst from the depths of her being. Aragorn paused at the doorway and she watched as he dipped his head to her in a sign of respect. Arwen fought herself as she numbly did the same, the words he had spoken to her earlier pounding in his mind, crushing her.  
  
"It was a dream, Arwen, nothing more."  
  
She stifled a sob and gazed pleadingly at Aragorn until at last he turned and left, leaving her to go out into a world full of peril. Arwen felt a warm hand on her shoulder and she turned to face her father, Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris. He stared into her eyes and knew what passed through her mind, brows furrowing in pity. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as no words came out. Elrond stooped and kissed her forehead lightly, embracing his only daughter lovingly. She listened as he exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Elrond closed his eyes, a sad smile crossing his face. His cares were relieved, not by much, but by some amount as the fellowship of the ring departed from his house. The dread of the One Ring still hung in the air, but the overwhelming presence had departed.  
  
And Aragorn.  
  
Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, heir of the kings of Men, had left the safety of the elven refuge to go to war for his kingdom. Elrond's eyes had watched that morning, keen interest shining in them as Aragorn had attempted to return the gift of the Evenstar, but had been refused. What his eyes did not see his heart read in his daughters face, He winced as he thought of the sadness he saw etched upon it, her eyes were dark and deep, filled with unshed tears. He had not seen her this despairing since the departure of her mother, his beloved Celebrian, many years before.  
  
Arwen stirred in his arms and moved away from him, staring up at him with eyes filled with cold starlight. She broke from his embrace and left, gliding across the courtyard until she vanished from his sight. Elrond sighed and turned to walk back into his house.  
  
Time would heal her wounds.  
  
Arwen slipped through the halls of Imladris, finding her way to her chambers. She had wandered in the gardens for many long hours, numbly drifting from reality. No tears were left to cry, her eyes were dry now, though long had she wept silently in a forlorn corner. She came to the end of the hall and laid her hand on the ornate handle, fingering it a moment before opening the door and slipping inside. Candles had been lit and they sent a warm glow around the room, rich fabrics shining faintly.  
  
She made her way to her bed, lying down and staring absentmindedly out the window, fingering the sill. Time fell through her hands, grains of sand so fine she could not catch them. She hardly ate or drank, and did not sleep nor rise, watching as the sun rose and fell, once, twice. Her thoughts drifted far from the peaceful valley she felt trapped within, searching far- off lands. Few understood the melancholy state of the Undomiel, their Evenstar, indeed none save Elrond knew in full.  
  
At last there came a knock on her door. Arwen did not move, nor rise to answer it, merely laid still until it clicked open, sighing as she felt her brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, enter the room. She shifted and sat up slowly, looking at them with calm eyes, sorrowful and deep as the oceans, filled with the knowledge and sorrow of many days and much loss. She did not say a word, and Elrohir exchanged a questioning glance with his brother before turning to his sister and speaking.  
  
"Father bids us send you word that the first of our people prepare to leave for the Havens." Arwen listened with still cold, still eyes, her face unreadable, letting the words drift through her mind. "Do you wish to depart with them or linger here for a time?"  
  
She could only whisper under her breath, "a time. a breath, a year, a life. eternity."  
  
"Sister, are you well?" Elladan asked, sitting beside her, "Three days have you lain in sloth, hardly stirring from you bed, and the birds sing mournfully that the Evenstar does not shine among her people."  
  
"My people." Arwen murmured, reaching to finger the tiara that lay upon her windowsill, musing as she toyed with it, "The light of the Evenstar does not wax or wane."  
  
Elrohir joined them on the bed, sitting on her other side and hugging her, "no, it does not. It is unfailing, immortal."  
  
"Immortal." she said the word to herself, "but if Hope is taken from it, how may it shine?"  
  
The twins exchanged a knowing glance, realization dawning upon them both. Elladan looked down at Arwen and sighed, "Estel."  
  
She cocked her head and shot him a glance, "what did you say?"  
  
"It is Estel, is it not?" he stated, looking at her with sorrowful grey eyes as understanding filled him, "What has happened, Undomiel?"  
  
Silence filled them room as Arwen looked into her brother's eyes, tears forming in her own once more. She struggled to speak, wishing to grieve in silence and yet wishing to confide in someone of her torment. Seeing their expectant looks she bowed her head and spoke, "I love him, brother," she whispered, the words drifting in the silent room like some haunting echo, "I love him."  
  
The twins were stunned, and Elrohir could not stop the words which fell from his lips, "And doom came on Tinuviel that in his arms lay glistening." He immediately glanced over at his little sister, feeling ashamed, and fearful of her reaction. She turned and looked at him, but he saw that she knew.  
  
She knew the bitter price she would pay if ever she joined hands to marry the one she loved. She must accept the sorrowful parting with all those whom she loved, to never see her mother again. She, Undomiel of her people, beloved daughter of the Eldar, would taste the bitterness of the mortality she would bring upon herself and the Sea between herself and all those she held dear would be too wide to ever cross. They would be sundered forever.  
  
She looked at them, knowing what passed through their minds, "It matters not, for he does not accept my love. He would not have me give up my immortality as did Luthien. He has heard the songs and tales of this house, and knows full well the elven grief of the loss of Tinuviel, which shall never find an end. He would have me depart to Valinor, and there dwell in peace until the ending of the world, though his own heart breaks that he cannot be with me."  
  
The twins fell silent a moment before Elrohir spoke, "Will you leave then, as Aragorn desires?"  
  
"I will remain here in Imladris, for a time." she bowed her head and turned to face the window once more. It was raining, dark clouds swirled high above and the drops they sent crashing to earth tacked rhythmically on her pane. The storm of her heart raged so much fiercer. Elladan stood, followed by Elrohir, and walked to the door, reluctant to leave their grieving sister and yet unsure of what to say to ease her pain.  
  
Elladan stepped outside her chamber, but Elrohir paused in the doorway, "You will find the strength to shine, Arwen."  
  
Arwen nodded slowly and he left. As the door clicked shut after him she leaned against the window, pressing her forehead to its cold surface.  
  
"Haer o auth a nir a naeth."  
  
She ran her fingers along the glass, tracing the streaks made by the never ending rain, "Ah Aragorn. you do not understand; my heart is filled with grief and despair only when I have no Hope. And a war rages within me now that I cannot dispel and I find no peace. No peace or hope without you."  
  
She lay down, closing her eyes and whispering, "Estel nin," before she slipped at last into the realm of dreams.  
  
"Estel."

Translations:  
  
Title: trust in this, our love Estel: Hope Imladris: Rivendell Undomiel: Evenstar  
  
Away from war and grief and despair (Aragorn's word's to Arwen when he attempts to return the Evenstar) My hope  
  
Notes:  
  
The stars are especially beloved by the elves and Evenstar is the title given to the brightest. Thus, as Arwen was the fairest that walked the earth, she was given the title "Evenstar" or Undomiel, in her native tongue  
  
Elladan and Elrohir are Arwen's older brothers. They have dark hair and grey eyes, and are identical twins.  
  
Arwen is called Evenstar (Undomiel, in Elvish) and is descended from Beren and Luthien. Luthien was an elf, the fairest that ever walked the earth, and she gave up her immortality to wed Beren, a Man, and so it was that the elven kind lost her that they most loved.  
  
Peredhil means Half-Elven. Elrond is the son of Elwing and Earendil, both of whom were half elf/ half mortal which chose to live as immortals. Elrond and his brother Elros were given the chance to live as men or elves; Elrond chose to live as an immortal, while Elros chose to live as a Man and died.  
  
Estel was the name given to Aragorn when he dwelt in Rivendell, where his mother left him after his father was slain when the heir of the kings was still young. Estel, meaning "Hope" was raised as a foster son to Elrond, though did not meet Arwen until he was twenty, on account of the fact that she dwelt in Lothlorien for long periods of time, where her grandmother Galadriel dwelt.  
  
Celebrian, the wife of Elrond and daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothlorien, departed over a thousand years previously. She had left after suffering for nearly a year since she was attacked by orcs traveling from Lothlorien to Rivendell. 


	3. bitter memories

She walked in the gardens within the house of her father, delighting in the feel of the fresh air, the starlight playing down through the trees to shine upon her, radiant and bright. Arwen had let her long hair down, and it followed her as a dark shadow, glimmering in the night. Her dress of pale grey shone in the darkness, and she danced upon the grass in joy of the winter, the cool frost on the ground shimmering in the light of the moon which sent rays shining down to Arda. From somewhere came the faint sounds of a song. The melody was so familiar, and yet she could not grasp what it was. Thoughts darted through her head, and she could not catch them. She forgot her frustration, as she began to dance, the words flitting through her mind, wrapping her in their embrace and carrying her far away, to a place forgotten by the world of men, and yet cherished by the elven people.  
  
"Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering"  
  
She whirled around, the words enchanting her flowing movements, spinning them beyond her control. Arwen threw her head back, reveling in the peace of the night.  
  
"He saw the elven flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling"  
  
She saw the sky high above, the Evenstar shining down on her, catching in her raven locks. Cares and worries slipped away, and her heart was given to the stars.  
  
"Tinuviel! Tinuviel! He called her by her elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinuviel That in his arms lay glistening"  
  
Her clear voice raised in song, echoing in the woods around, clear as a silver bell, and bright as the morning. The music became more then hers, hundreds of fair elven voices singing, rising up, full of hope and sorrow, joy and despair. Then they faded, slowly, until only two voices remained, hers and anothers. Her dancing came to a halt, and she opened her eyes. Only one voice was singing, her own. Her own sweet voice rang throughout, and as the song came to an end, she opened her eyes.  
  
She felt her breath catch slightly. Standing at the edge of the clearing was. a man. A slight flush rose to her cheeks, an ever faint tinge of pink on her pale features, and she turned to walk back towards the house of her father.  
  
"Tinuviel! Tinuviel!"  
  
She whirled around, a smile gracing her face, her dark hair whipping behind her in a keen breeze, and she turned to watch as this man walked up, awe written on his features.  
  
"Who are you?" she spoke, the words tumbling from her lips. Something about him seemed. almost familiar, "And why do you call me by that name?" Her eyes darted, scanning his face for an answer.  
  
"Because I believed you to be indeed Luthien Tinuviel, of whom I was singing," he answered with wonder shining brightly in his keen eyes, alive with a light akin to that of the elven race and yet not so. A lord of men he seemed, full of the life of the youthful, to whom the world is new every day "But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness."  
  
Arwen felt her smile waver, and her mind wandered through many thoughts. And doom came on Tinuviel, that in his arms lay glistening. She pushed the words aside, they troubled her. " So many have said, yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will not be unlike hers," the words did not seem to come from her, as though her mind and body lay in the keeping of some greater force. She felt her thoughts return, and continued, "But who are you?"  
  
He seemed to return from a dream, and he answered with an air of dignity. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dunadain and heir of Isildur."  
  
He appeared noble, bold, and laugh escaped her throat, watching in pitied amusement as he deflated; she could see the embaressment in his eyes, hidden though it was by. awe, was it. Or perhaps. she nearly froze, infaturation. She could hardly bear his discomfort and laughed merrily, its bright sound ringing through the trees, "Then we are kin from afar," her mind raced, so this was Elendil's heir., "For I am Arwen Elrond's daughter, and am called also Undomiel."  
  
Her mind saw the sorrow in her father's eyes when he spoke of Isildur, but her heart thought of this man before her, the descendant of kings. His eyes glinted keenly and he was lithe, strong and proud. "Often it is seen," he spoke in a voice filled with wonder and amazement, "that in dangerous days men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Elrond and your brothers; for though I have dwelt in this house since childhood, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have not met before?Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?"  
  
Arwen nearly laughed at this; keep her under lock and key? Surely her father would do no such thing and yet. and yet she wondered also why he had no tidings of her, for was she not the daughter of Elrond, would he not mention her within all the years of this youth? 20 years or so this mortal seemed, and surely her father would have spoken of her lest he feared something of this man? "No," she looked across the mountains, towards Lothlorien, where dwelt her grandmother, Galadriel and grandfather, Celeborn, "I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother's kin, in far Lothlorien. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris."  
  
She watched in amusement as a strange look came into his eyes, confusion filled him. Arwen smiled and looked deep into his eyes, "Do not wonder! For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."  
  
Why had I ever left?  
  
Naneth.  
  
Memories flooded her mind. Of singing and dancing, of her mother's bright laughter flying through the trees; of her father. Her thoughts came rushing back to the man who stood before her, "I fear I must depart, son of Arathorn. Elenath sila erin le." She turned and walked quickly away, vanishing from his sight as tears streamed down her pale cheeks.  
  
Mother, why did you leave me? Why did you leave ada? He needs you. I can see it in his eyes sometimes, that haunted look that invades when his thoughts dwell on you. I miss you so much.  
  
She sat down on a bench and let the sobs take her. She did not feel the pain like this in Lothlorien; healing was there. Here. here there were only memories, it was a place of remembrance. She shifted and laid on the long seat, staring at the stars as they peered through the trees, the sound of voices raised in song drifted to my ears and she closed my eyes and listened.  
  
One day the pain will fade.  
  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
  
Silivren penna miriel  
  
O menel aglar elenath  
  
Na-Chaered palan-diriel  
  
o galadhremmin ennorth  
  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
  
Nef aear, si nef aearon

Arwen stirred as the suns rays played across her face, sitting slowly up. A tear threaded down her cheek and she let out a sigh. She ran a hand through her dark tresses, climbing out of bed. She rose and stared sadly out the window.  
  
All through the valley life began to stir. Flowers peered sleepily out from behind their petals and songs began to rise throughout the house. It proved to be a beautiful day for many, even through the sorrow that existed as the elven kindred prepared to depart, but for Arwen it was only another day of grief. Another day knowing she would never again see the one she loved most.  
  
Another day without hope. 


	4. uich gwennen na wanath ah na dhin

Arwen sat on the floor, huddled near to the wall in a corner of the Hall of Fire, wrapped in a warm, dark cloak, hood pulled over her face to mask her features. Her eyes were closed, and she let the lyrics flicker through her mind. A dark haired elf stood and began to sing, and the soft words came falling into her mind as she drifted off into dreams.  
  
Uich gwennen na'wanath ah na dhin  
  
Aragorn floated down a river, motionless, his body battered and bloody.  
  
An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen  
  
She watched as his still form washed ashore, searching for any signs of life. He moaned faintly, and she sighed, releasing the breath she had not realized she had been holding. He lived.  
  
Boe naid bain gwannathar  
  
Her eyes wandered over him, looking for wounds, noting the Evenstar was missing from his neck with sorrow.  
  
Boe cuil ban firitha  
  
She bent over his form, tracing his features with her pale fingers, "May the grace of the Valar protect you," she whispered, gently kissing him, wishing that he could feel her warm touch. His eyes drifted open and she smiled sadly as the dream vanished.  
  
Boe near gwannatach  
  
She awakened as the song ended, her deep, starlit eyes rising from the shadows of her cloak to stare out at the others.  
  
"Aragorn."  
  
She stood, the warm closeness of the hall feeling confining, and made her way outside. The stars shone brightly overhead and a hint of a smile touched her lips. She walked awhile through the cold forest, her steps slow but sure, allowing her mind to drift somewhere between thought and dream.  
  
She sat down next to a tree, leaning back against the white bark of the graceful birch, staring up into the night sky. A tear meandered down her cheek, stinging slightly in the brisk air, and she gently closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was the wind whistling through the woods.


	5. saying goodbye

Arwen stood beneath the doorway leading to Dinsam, the chamber of silence. Therein lay Narsil, blade of Elendil, once surrounded by other remnants of the last great war of Middle-Earth. Not it lay alone, save perchance some other small item of men. The elvish armour, and such things, had been removed and packed away safely for the journey to Valinor but this remained, for its importance belonged to men, not to the elven kindred. And so she stood there, clad in traveling clothes and a soft cloak that fell to gently brush the floor, staring at the statue far across the room which held the reforged blade of Isildur cradeled within its arm. She walked slowly toward it, her eyes fixed upon the sword in awe. In her mind she listened to the tales of her father as he told of Elendil and Gil-galad and of the bright flame of Narsil as it swept through the unnumbered hosts of Mordor, dancing in its masters hand, an unquenchable flame, untiring of battle.  
  
Her cold hand reached out and she felt her fingers grasp the handle. Arwen hefted it, watching the dying rays of the sun glimmering red down the blade, admiring the skill with which the elves of Imladris had mended the shattered weapon. It was perfectly balanced, and seemed a thing to grand for even her hand, something meant to lead all good things to victory. Her eyes glazed, a mist filled them, her mind slipping unbidden into the world of dreams even as she stood, holding the hilt of Narsil in her pale white hand.  
  
Far away Aragorn stood upon the wall of helm's Deep; the rain fell in torrents about the army arrayed there. With a single deft movement he drew his sword, its blade gleaming in the smoggy light cast from torches positioned here and there. Around him were elves, clad in shining armour. Proud and stern he was, a commanding light was in his eyes.  
  
Lightning flashed, illuminating the disturbing sight surrounding the fortress. Standing before the wall, girt for war, were thousands upon thousands of foul orcs, a sea beyond her count, pounding tall spears in a cruel measure of war. Their ranks suddenly ceased all action, and a deathly still fell upon both sides, hardly bearable. Suddenly an arrow was loosed from the battlement at the end of the wall, streaking through the air and piercing an orc in the throat.  
  
The fury of the forces of Saruman was unleashed even as their first casualty fell to the ground, dead. They crashed upon the fortress as waves upon the shore, fearsome cries ringing through the night.  
  
"Hado I phillin!" came the command. The air was suddenly filled with arrows, and many orcs fell slain by their deadly accuracy. Yells of pain and hatred rang from both sides and the sounds of war grew almost deafening, the twang of bowstrings and the grating of metal and stone.  
  
War had come to Rohan.  
  
Arwen started, the sword dropped from her hand and fell to the floor with a loud clang! The mist fell from before her eyes  
  
And she bent down to retrieve Narsil. She traced the lines of the hilt, running her fingers along its cross and letting them drift down the base of the blade, dipping them into the shallow ravine at its center.  
  
The moments passed, and at last she stopped and gripped the hilt, raising the sword to her lips. She softly kissed the blade, then laid it gently back onto the velvety cloth. "Navaer," she whispered, then slipped silently from the room.


End file.
